We sit in the car together and drive away from the school, I can’t look at him, and just being near him is enough
to make me wish I had just walked. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, alternating his looks between me and the road
but I can’t look at him. I feel his hand brushing against mine and I flinch away, removing my hand from underneath his;
I have to resist the temptation somehow.
“What’s up with you?” he asks
and I try to pretend that I didn’t hear him. “You’re all on edge,”
I say nothing and I know
he’s not going to give up.
“You’re usually gripping onto the dashboard and pleading for your life
“I guess I just got confidence in your driving,” I tell him, trying to cover up.
slip back into the tense silence as he drives along the road at a speed which is going to get me there in four minutes rather
than seven and I just hope the ride goes quickly. I know he’s aching to speak and I pray that he doesn’t. I don’t
want to speak to him, I just want to get to work and do my shift before going home and having an early night.
wrong?” he asks me. I was so close, so close to getting out of the car without a discussion about my behaviour but I
know I’m not going to get away with it. I try to ignore it, I try to pretend that I didn’t hear him speak but
he breathes a heavy sigh and I know it’s no good.
“What’s wrong?” He asks again, turning to
face me as he pulls into the icehouse parking lot a few minutes before schedule.
“Well thanks for the ride,”
I say, reaching for the door to leave but he reaches across me and locks the door. His skin brushes mine and I feel the electricity
that he induces.
“Tell me what’s wrong,”
“Nothing!” I bite back. I’m sick
of him trying to get into my head; he’s too influential in there already. “Nothing is wrong so stop asking,”
well I’m sorry for caring,”
“I forgive you,” I tell him flatly, gazing blankly at the window
and hoping he won’t push any further.
“Why can’t you just graciously accept the ride and be pleasant
instead of shooting me down in flames every time I speak to you,” he asks and I close my eyes guiltily, trying to block
him out. “I mean I just thought you might want a ride to work with the rain and all but if you don’t appreciate
it then you can forget any more favours any time soon,” He explodes at me. I’m surprised by his tone a little,
but not as much as he thinks. The car is tense and I can feel him staring into me when I don’t move; he’s waiting
for an explanation. “God what is wrong with you, why won’t you talk to me?”
I crack; I don’t
know what’s causing it or why I choose this particular moment to crack but I do. I feel a tear tumble down by cheek
and cover my face with my hands, I can’t stop the tears from coming, they just keep on falling and I can’t even
“God,” Pacey mutters, taking a deep breath and turning towards me. “I’m sorry,”
want to do something, either storm out the car or just stop crying but I can’t. Its like I’ve lost all control
of my emotions, the tears just keep coming.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, moving closer to me, squeezing
my shoulder, and tucking my hair behind my ear with his fingers, letting his thumb brush my cheek. Behind my hands I close
my eyes and my breath catches as he touches me. His warm hands are against my cold, clammy skin and I can’t help but
lean into him more than I would want to. There’s something about his touch that makes me want to fall into him and I
could let myself but that would be a very bad idea.
He slips his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him and
I can’t help but let him. I rest my head on his hest and cuddle into him as he puts his arms around me, holding my head
against him as the tears continue to fall. There’s some kind of electrical current surging through me and part of me
wants to know if he feels it too.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sobbing into his orange sweater and leaving
a mark. “I don’t know what’s got into me,”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, placing
his hands on my cheeks and removing my hands from my eyes, looking directly into them. “What happened?”
I tell him averting my eyes from his; I can’t look into his eyes or ill fall into them. “It’s just everything;
Alexander, Bessie, Dawson, Jen, Abby, you…”
“Me?” He asks, cutting off the progression of my
list. “I’m what’s wrong?”
“Not exactly,” I lie. I’m lying now, I’m
actually lying right to his face but I can’t tell him what’s wrong; I cant tell Pacey Witter that little Joey
Potter has, in the last half hour, become so attracted to him that she finds it hard to be close to him. “It’s
more Dawson than anything else,”
“I told you… he’ll come around… Jen is just some kind
of fling. Dawson can’t believe his luck right now… she’s a novelty, an un-chartered territory but he’ll
come to you if he has any sense,”
“Oh come on,” I snap, pulling away from him and looking into his
eyes. “Did he send you or something? Did he ask you to keep me sweet?”
mean what is it? Everyone knows you have this thing for Jen, ever since she moved here you and Dawson have been falling over
each other to impress her,”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
spend all day with her. You stand by your locker with her and tell her little stories, make her laugh and toss her hair. You
want Dawson to come to me so that you can get your filthy little hooks on her perky little…” I look at him as
I speak and my voice fades away. He’s glaring at me like I said something wrong and maybe I did go too far, but none
of it was untrue.
“So that’s what this is about?” he asks me, moving his hands away from me. “You’re
jealous because you’re not the main attraction anymore?”
“That’s not what I said,”
but that’s what you meant. You were so used to having me and Dawson fuss around you, spend every moment with you and
now you feel left out because there’s a new kid on the block!”
“It’s nothing to do with that,”
it is. The fact that she’s nowhere near as smart as you or funny as you or as jaw-droppingly beautiful as you means
nothing. All you care about is the fact that she gets the attention,”
“Are you finished?” I ask him,
unable to believe what he said. He’s calling me spoilt and I know it; I can always tell when he’s calling me spoilt
and he couldn’t be further from the truth.
“No, I’m not,” he tells me, shaking his head as
if I’m a disappointment to him somehow. “Jen had no friends when she came here, all she had was her grandmother…
I thought if anyone could understand someone feeling alone, isolated from their family it would be you. And just because Dawson
wants to be with her right now it doesn’t mean that you have to act like a spoilt brat who threw her rattle out the
“I knew you were calling me spoilt!”
“Yeah well you are,”
think that I’ve been spoilt?” I ask him, opening my mouth in shock unable to believe what he was saying. “My
mother is dead, my father is in jail and I live with my sister and her illegitimate child to a black man!” I shout.
I don’t care how loud I’m shouting or who can hear. “I have no money, I work for peanuts and I don’t
get to keep any of it. I don’t even have a room to myself anymore Pacey; Alex screams all night! I’m tired! I’m
too tired to sleep, too tired to eat, to tired to go to school, too tired to work and way too tired to sit here and take this
“Then leave,” he tells me, leaning across my lap and opening the door for me. “Run
away because you are so good at that,”
I can’t bear to be in the car with him anymore, I can’t bear
to look at him or listen to him anymore. I can’t believe that he’s being so cruel to me and his eyes are colder
than I have ever seen them. I climb out the car and slam the door hard before walking towards the door and walking through
the restaurant. I aggravate a couple customers as I walk past angrily but I can’t help it. I want to cry; I want to
cry because he was right, right about everything.
It’s been a long day at the icehouse, full of customers that want a refill in their
cup five seconds after you bring them their first. I’m just glad to have it over and as I walk up to the front door
I notice the house is empty, or at least it looks that way. I’m glad I’m alone, I really don’t feel like
talking to Bessie tonight, I just want to sneak into my bedroom, change into my pajamas and sleep. It’s been hard to
stop thinking about Pacey today; the things that he said, the things I said and the way I feel about him. It’s almost
like someone stole my heart and overwrote my feelings for Dawson with feelings for him.
When I walk in the house its
quiet, too quiet, with and uncomfortable and tense air. Its almost like that feeling that you get when there’s a madman
hiding in the bushes, or when you know that someone’s going to give you bad news before they tell you it.
I shout. It almost feels like someone is here, but I don’t see her anywhere. “Bess are you home?”
phone rings, almost as if someone was watching me walk in the house and I pick it up after one ring. “Hello?”
The voice came from the receiver. It’s a familiar voice; Bessie, and something’s wrong,. “I was hoping you
would be back,”
“I just got in… what’s wrong?”
she says and I know instinctively that something’s wrong. It’s the shaky tone of her voice and the sobbing in
the background. Joan was a close friend of Bessie’s, she had known her ever since she befriended Bodie at high school
and he took her home to meet his family.
“She’s dead Jo,” she
sob’s to me and I know the sound behind her of sobbing is Bodie.
“Where are you?”
at the hospital with Bodie; we’re going back to his mom’s house to check she’s okay… will you be alright
by yourself tonight?”
“Sure. What about Alexander?”
“Oh,” She sighs. “He’s
with Gayle… could you pick him up for me?”
“Sure, no problem,”
I put down the receiver and sigh, sitting down in the chair in the dark. Something comes over
me and I cry again, unable to believe how someone can be taken away so quickly.
Part 1 here
Part 3 coming soon!!